


Cherry Wine

by aceofsparrows



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, F/M, Self-Harm, Songfic, bleuaceofsparrows fic, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: Persephone's childhood was not a pretty one, and things are not alright in Hadestown.Inspired by the Hozier song "Cherry Wine".
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> ya know what? i have so much i should be writing rn, but this has been rattling around in my head for a good day and half and wouldn’t leave until i wrote it, soooo…. have some hades/seph angst, y’all. 
> 
> inspired by the song “Cherry Wine” by Hozier. Best read while listening to said song.
> 
> tw for abuse (verbal and physical), alcoholism, blood, slurs, self-harm, and SADNESS

_**Her eyes and words are so icy** _

_**Oh but she burns** _

_**Like rum on the fire** _

_**Hot and fast and angry as she can be** _

_**I walk my days on a wire.** _

“You will _not_ be seeing that boy anymore, you hear me, Kore?” 

Her mother was angry again. Angry at Persephone for sneaking out, angry at her for spending the afternoon in the meadow with Hades. 

“Kore. _Kore_. Look at me when I’m talking to you, child!” _**SLAP**_ “Worthless slut of a daughter… Just like your father…” Demeter mutters as Persephone holds her cheek and tries desperately not to cry. 

_**It looks ugly, but it’s clean,** _

_**Oh momma, don’t fuss over me.** _

“Kore, come here child.” Persephone was just passing by, only coming into the front room to gather her knitting needles and yarn. And yet her mother has seen her, and so she must obey. 

“Yes, mother?” Her voice is small and scratchy with disuse and fear. 

“Kore, darling, you look pale. Is everything alright? The flowers in the back garden were wilting again today; you know you can’t shirk your duties just because you’re sulking, darling.” 

Demeter’s lips are pursed, hands folded in that barely-contained way of hers. Persephone forces herself to look her in the eyes. 

“Yes mother. I know, mother.” 

“What do we say, Kore? A pretty garden…”

“… is a perfect garden.” 

Demeter smiles, but it stays at her lips. Her eyes, cold as the iron that harvests her grain, do not smile.

“Good girl.” 

_**The way she tells me I’m hers and she is mine** _

_**Open hand or closed fist would be fine** _

_**The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.** _

“I love you so much, darling,” Demeter whispers one evening, stroking Persephone’s nest of curls as she sleeps. She leans down to kiss the caramel corkscrews, and Persephone sighs, eyelashes fluttering. “I love you so much, and all I want to do is protect you, my darling baby girl.” 

The flames are low, but Demeter doesn’t mind. So long as they are hungry enough for a little more kindling, they will do just fine. 

One by one, she burns the letters. Love note after love note, kiss after kiss, promise after promise after promise. 

As long as she’s living, her sweet, innocent Kore will _not_ be marrying that scum of the dead Hades. 

Kore will stay here with her, forever, watching over the spring and knitting and stay young and pretty and perfect. 

The last letter has a dried flower pressed with it, a red carnation darkened with age. It burns blood red when Demeter casts it into the fire, and in her sleep Persephone whimpers, as if somehow she knows what is being done to her. 

**_Calls of guilty thrown at me_ **

**_All while she stains_ **

**_The sheets of some other_ **

Hades knows it has to happen. Knows Persephone must go Above for the good of the world, to continue the cycle. So why does it hurt so every time she leaves on the train at the end of the winter? Why does the fear sit in his chest, pushing on his heart and making it hard to breathe?

It feels…. how does it feel? It feels like she’s leaving for good, every single time. Like maybe she’s suddenly decided she hates him and she won’t come back in the fall. Like he’s nothing, like they’re young again and he’s standing in the meadow at midnight waiting, waiting, waiting for her to come, and she never does. 

She never does. 

So he builds the wall. He lays the foundry, he lights up Hadestown in neon signs and he shows her all the things his love can do. And she spits at his feet. 

“You’re not the man I married, Hades. You’re a _monster_.” 

A monster. 

How has he become a monster, when all he did was love her? 

_**Thrown at me so powerfully** _

_**Just like she throws with the arm of her brother.** _

Hades has never understood their family. Never understood how so many people could hold so much guilt and regret and distain inside until it all came spilling out in a tidal wave of anger and destruction and horror. 

He’s never seen Persephone so angry. Never seen her fume like this, never seen her drink away her sorrows quite like this before. 

She says it’s about the new girl, but he disagrees. This is about them. It has always been about them. Always. 

If only she could see that. If only she wouldn’t try so hard to run away even when she’s already so far gone. 

He worries, sometimes, if she’ll be the exception to the rule someday. If someday she’ll disappear, and she won’t come back, and he’ll be all alone again. 

All alone. 

_**But I want it** _

_**It’s a crime** _

_**That she’s not around most of the time.** _

He tells her they’ll try again. He tells her not to worry, to go up Above and bring the people spring and not to think of him. 

Selfishly, a small part of him hopes she forgets. 

Besides, what use is a wife, a lover, if she no longer loves you? 

_**The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine** _

_**Open hand or closed fist would be fine** _

_**Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.** _

Hades remembers that night in the meadow all too well. He remembers how he waited for hours past midnight for her, hoping in vain that she’d come. He remembers the darkness fading into light, and the gentle call of the birds in the trees. He remembers, just as he was turning to go, hearing a voice. 

Her voice. 

Persephone, running towards him, nightdress torn and streaked with blood, her face a mess of tears. 

He remembers how she told him what her mother had done. How, in halting, gasping sobs, she had explained how that bitch Demeter had burned their letters, every last one of them. How when Persephone had seen what she’d done she’d screamed and screamed and screamed. 

How when her mother had tried to calm her and called her “Kore” she’s snapped, throwing herself at Demeter and trying furiously to claw her eyes out. And, saddest of all, how she’s turned on herself when that was not enough, threatening to slit her wrists if her mother didn’t let her go. 

How she couldn’t live without him. 

He remembers it all, and sometimes he wonders where all that love has gone. 

_**Her fight and fury is fiery** _

_**Oh, but she loves** _

_**Like sleep to the freezing** _

_**Sweet and right and merciful** _

_**I’m all but washed** _

_**In the tide of her breathing.** _

Orpheus turns. 

Persephone weeps. 

Spring and summer pass. 

Autumn returns. 

She falls into his arms, sobbing. The Above just isn’t the same. Orpheus is missing. Hermes is despondent. 

Everything is in pieces. 

But Hades has his wife back. At night he watches her sleep, breath calm and even face relaxed in a way it hasn’t been awake in years. 

He has her, and for the moment, that is all that matters to him. 

It’s selfish, he knows, but it’s true. 

He has his wife back. He has his love back. 

Persephone, safe in his arms at last. 

_**And it’s worth it, it’s divine** _

_**I have this some of the time.** _

And yet she still must leave. The seasons go on, the years fly by. Spring and summer get a little milder, a little rainier, autumn and winter get a little warmer and a little prettier. 

Things change and things stay the same. Orpheus wanders, and Eurydice forgets. Hermes sings the song of their love over and over again, hoping that someday it will turn out right. 

Hades and Persephone are Hades and Persephone. 

The same as they’ve always been, and always will be. 

_**The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine** _

_**Open hand or closed fist would be fine** _

Everything was perfect. 

And then he wakes one night, and she’s not beside him. 

A light down the hall. 

Persephone in a heap on the bathroom floor, sloppy drunk on cherry wine and sobbing and muttering. 

And the blood. So much blood. Hades had forgotten if gods could bleed, if their veins ran with golden ichor or the red blood of men. 

Persephone’s blood is red, so red. But she heals fast, and by the time Hades takes her wrists up in his hands to kiss them, the angry red lines are nothing but hard, pale scars. 

“I’m here, Seph. I’m here, lover, whatever you need. I’m here, Persephone, I’m here and I love you.” 

“Hades….” she whispers, voice thick with tears. “He’s so sad, Hades. He loved her so much, but she’s forgotten. And he’s forgetting too, and he never sings anymore, and–and–and…..” 

Hades closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Alright my love, alright….. shhh, shhh, breathe, Persephone, breathe, lover…” She breathes, however labored, and Hades breathes with her. 

“I love you, Persephone, and I promise. I promise I will help them. For you, Persephone. Always for you.”

_**Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.** _


End file.
